


A War We Wage

by Stark_Black



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe, Demisexual Zoro, Demisexuality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Language, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Possible trigger warning for insensitive slave owner talk, Slave!Sanji, Slavery, Swordsman!Sanji, Zoro is a sweetheart, but not Zoro, commission, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 23:15:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12568356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stark_Black/pseuds/Stark_Black
Summary: Zoro is trapped in a life he does not want. A gilded cage of wealth and politics where slaves are commonplace and abuse is the norm. His dream is to leave and make his way north where his heroes are making freedom a reality, but his plans come close to unraveling when he crosses paths with a blond, blue-eyed slave that makes him feel things he's never felt before.





	A War We Wage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SummerOtaku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerOtaku/gifts).



> Commission for SummerOtaku. It's been a long time coming, I think she requested this two years ago? The original request was "A world where Zoro gets to see a cool swordsman version of Sanji", so I ran with that. I wanted to play a little with some character ideas I've had for a while, mainly a demisexual Zoro that was low-key emotionally abused by his family, and a master-slave dynamic. Except I may have messed that last one up? Not sure. Hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Extra note: Please don't read too hard into the extra characters. Everyone except Zoro and Sanji (and two or three others right at the end) are all OCs.

“Button your shirt, Zoro, your scar is showing.”

Sighing softly, Zoro did as he was told, buttoning the last three buttons of his tunic before readjusting the thick leather belt and sword harness at his hips. His mother Mia eyed the movement, wrinkling her nose.

“I don’t understand why you need to wear that thing everywhere,” she said, “It’s unseemly.”

“It’s comfortable,” he grumbled.

“Enough, you too,” Zoro’s father Bazil huffed over his shoulder, “try not to make a scene this time.”

Zoro was about to say something about how he hadn’t done anything wrong, but thought better of it at the last moment. What would be the point? His parents never listened to him anyway. 

Standing on the terrace with his mother, father, and older sister Zaya, Zoro watched as the gates opened and a small caravan of metal-framed wagons, pulled by brawny horses and flanked by a dozen armored and unfriendly looking men, rolled into the courtyard. Starting to feel sick to his stomach, Zoro folded his arms across his chest and tried not to growl audibly as the wagons stopped and the men moved to unlock the cages.

“Lord Roronoa!” A fat man with a flowing beard lowered himself from the lead wagon and lifted his arms to the terrace in greeting. “I am so happy to see you and your family looking so well!”

Zoro’s father greeted him with a wave of his hand.

“Bolard.”

“The last few months have been quite profitable,” Bolard gestured towards the wagons, “my stock is healthy and ready for inspection. You shan’t be disappointed.”

“I don’t expect to be,” Bazil said, “you always deliver quality.”

Zoro tuned out the rest of the conversation. He didn’t want to be here. The only reason he was standing on the terrace overlooking this disgusting display was because if he missed the annual selection a second year in a row, his mother would never let him hear the end of it.

Beside him, his sister sighed and fanned herself with her hand.

“I do hope they have prettier ones than last year.”

Zoro said nothing. His family repulsed him sometimes.

Below them, the armored grunts were readying the “stock”. Thin and dirty men and women, hollowed eyed youths, and children with baby teeth still in their mouths were pulled from the wagons and lined up for inspection. Some of them were crying, some were shaking, and some were just staring off at nothing with blank expressions.

Slaves were commonplace in the Eastern Territories, especially here in Ruma, but no matter how many his family owned, Zoro could never get used to it. It was strange, one would think after nineteen years of seeing them day in and day out they would have, at some point, become something like furniture. But Zoro couldn’t understand how it was possible to treat another human the way his culture treated the people from across the sea.

It was all so frustrating because he was powerless to do anything on a large scale. So he did what he could. He tried to stop any abuse he discovered, and he made sure all mouths were fed at least twice a day. When he came of age next year he would take his inheritance and leave his family’s home. He would join the rebellion that had formed in the lands to the north and he would fight for the people that could not fight for themselves. This lifestyle had to stop, and Zoro was going to—

“Zoro!”

Startled, Zoro turned and found his mother scowling at him.

“Good gracious, child, are you _trying_ to embarrass me!? Get moving!”

Clamping down on words that would dishonor him and probably his line all the way back to his great grandfathers, Zoro turned and made his way begrudgingly down the stone steps and into the courtyard.

His father was inspecting the men in the front line, the more muscular, fit types. No doubt he would choose two of three of those and put them into training for The Pit, a fighting ring at the outskirts of the city. It was a quick way to make money, especially if you knew certain people. His mother was searching the woman and teenagers, probably looking for another house slave. Someone to bathe her or brush her hair at night. His sister… well, let’s just say his sister’s interests were all below the belt and above the knee. 

Zoro moved along the outside, not really looking, trying to skirt his mother’s attention.

When he neared the wagons, a wet, choking cough pulled his attention to one of the cages. Inside, slumped against the iron bars, was a single man. He seemed to be around Zoro’s age, with dirty blond hair and pale skin. He was thin, but muscular in the way dancers or martial artists were. Bruises covered most of his limbs, and a small trickle of blood ran from his temple to his jaw. 

As Zoro stood there, the man coughed again, wet and painful, and then spat blood onto the floor of the cage. When the man rolled his head to the side and his eyes came up, Zoro felt his heart slam into the inside of his ribcage and halt for several long seconds.

The man’s eyes were the most amazing shade of blue Zoro had ever seen. Brighter than the sky and deeper than the ocean. 

And they were ferocious. 

The man stared at him with the intensity of a raging storm. There was fire and passion and sharp, icy hatred burning from somewhere within. Zoro found he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even think as he met that terrible gaze.

The man glared at Zoro, sucked at his teeth, and again spit blood onto the floor of the cage. His eyes never lowered, never broke from Zoro’s. He was not afraid, not even a little.

Zoro was captivated.

So enthralled by the blue-eyed man, Zoro had not noticed there were still grunts milling about, pulling slaves from wagons and lining them up. As he watched, a man climbed up into the cage next to the one holding the blue-eyed slave and grabbed a woman by the hair, yanking her to her feet. She screamed in pain, and the blue-eyed slave finally looked away from Zoro to bark at the grunt in a language Zoro had never heard before. Even tied up and shackled in iron and studded leather, the slave was able to kick one of his legs out between the bars and hit the armored man hard enough to make him stumble. The grunt made a huffing sound and dropped the woman’s hair, but he quickly recovered and whirled on the blue-eyed slave. 

“You ‘gain,” he sneered, “I fough’ we taught you a piece last night. Looks like it didn’t shtick.”

Opening up the cage, the grunt pulled himself up and one meaty hand went for a sword at the man’s hip. However, before he could do anything with it, Zoro was moving. He vaulted into the cage, and had taken the grunt’s fist in his own hand. He met the larger man’s eyes and started to squeeze before the other could say anything. 

“Touch him,” Zoro said softly, “and I’ll break both your arms.”

There was a moment of fire, of retaliation in the grunt’s eyes, but then Zoro squeezed harder and the distinct sound of a snapping bone filled the air. The man’s features melted from aggressive into a mask of pain, and he slumped, trying to pull away.

“Yes! Yes, m’lord! M’sorry! Lemme go!”

Zoro dropped the grunt’s hand and turned to the blue-eyed slave. The man was looking up at him, surprise and curiosity had replaced some of his anger, but not much.

“Unshackle him,” Zoro ordered. “I’ll give you eight-hundred sollons for him.”

“But m’lord—”

“He’s worth seven-hundred easy and he’s obviously injured, so I’m doing you a favor. Unshackle him now.”

The grunt hesitated only for another moment before he bowed and reached for the keys at his belt. “Yes m’lord.”

Zoro turned and hopped off the wagon. The blue-eyed slave said nothing and made no moves to struggle as he was uncuffed, but after the grunt released him he moved with a speed that Zoro had trouble following. The slave shot up, pulled the grunt’s sword from the scabbard at his hip, and then in another swift motion, kicked the man’s legs out, sending the grunt toppling backwards. The slaves that were still in the surrounding cages gasped as the large man’s back hit the planks of the wagon. 

The blue-eyed slave moved to stand over the grunt and adjusted his hold on the stolen sword. Zoro’s eyes were drawn to the movement. He was skilled, that much was obvious, the way his fingers curled around the grip; the way the length of his thumb rested against the cross guard, there was no mistaking it.

If the grunt had been about to say something, he was cut off as the slave snapped the tip of the blade against his jaw in an elegant flourish. 

A shiver of excitement tickled up Zoro’s back and down his arms. Not moving, saying nothing, he waited to see what the slave would do next. When those blue eyes came up, they regarded Zoro with that same intensity, that same raging storm of anger and frustration. It was a challenge, Zoro could see it clear as day.

_Try and stop me. I dare you…_

Zoro replied by putting his hands up, palms out in a placating, surrendering gesture.

_Do what you want to him, I don’t care…_

The slave’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but then there was a shout from the head of the lineup.

“Oi! What’s going on over here! Lars why are you—”

Zoro turned to see the slaver lead, the fat bearded man Bolard, come to a halt a few feet behind him. His eyes had gone wide, terrified.

“What…” he stammered, “how did he… how did this happen?”

“I ordered him unshackled,” Zoro said.

Bolard looked at him incredulously. “You what!?” 

Bazil moved up beside Bolard and folded his arms over his chest. “What’s going on?”

The fat man wrung his hands, unsure of what to say. He didn’t dare insult one of his best customers by scolding his son.

“I… um, this slave is not for sale. As you can see, it is unpredictable and extremely violent. It has already killed three of my men since we picked it up a few weeks ago. I’m taking it back to the capitol for euthanization.”

“I’ve offered eight-hundred sollons for him,” Zoro said to his father. “We can throw in a few hundred more for the damages and loss of the men, can’t we father?”

His father was eyeing him strangely.

“Sir… my lords,” Bolard stammered, “it is extremely dangerous. I do not recommend—”

“Fifteen hundred sollons,” Zoro said, stone-faced. “I’ll take it from my personal savings. Eight hundred will be for the slave, use two hundred of it to feed the rest of them before you leave the city, and then take the rest for damages.”

His father was still looking at him with that peculiar expression, but turned away when his mother exclaimed loudly from beside him.

“Oh Zoro! Finally! You’ll see, my dear, having a slave is so fulfilling!”

Zoro noticed she had two young women in tow, one looked about sixteen, the other looked about half that. He felt sick again.

“I… well,” Bolard was still standing there, gawking, “I suppose—”

“Good,” Zoro interrupted, gesturing to the slave, “now, if you don’t mind.”

Sending one last worried look in Zoro’s father’s direction, Bolard finally acquiesced when Bazil seemed agreeable to the bargain. He sighed softly and moved toward there opening of the wagon where Zoro was standing and held up his hand. “Come here,” he said. 

Zoro was half-worried the blue-eyed slave was going to resist. He didn’t want to force him to come, or even worse, have to hurt him more just to get him upstairs and away from these people, but thankfully, the man dropped the sword, climbed down from the wagon quietly, and stood before Bolard without a fuss. His squall of anger had calmed, but his eyes were just as bright and just as calculating as they had been before.

Bolard put his fingers to the woven cord around the slave’s neck and spoke, “Release.” The cord went from a bright forest green, to a dull gray color instantly.

“Okay, son, now you.”

Zoro swallowed thickly, but did not hesitate. Hesitating would be extremely suspicious, and so he moved close, put his fingers on the slave’s collar, and spoke, “Bind.”

He watched the dull gray return to that bright forest green, and he heard his mother’s shrill laugh from behind him. “Oh! Bazil! He’s finally done it!”

Zoro, however, felt sick again. He had never planned on owning a slave, but now here he was, and the glowing collar in front of him was proof. 

“How do you plan to pay?” Bolard asked.

“Don’t worry about that now, Bolard!” his mother said. “We’ll connect you with his accounts when we’re done here!”

Wishing to leave more than anything, Zoro met that blue-eyed stare again and tilted his head to indicate the stairway.

“This way.”

The slave followed, but with some effort. He was obviously still in a lot of pain.

“I’m so proud of you, Zoro!” his mother called up at him as he reached the terrace. “We should celebrate tonight! Mark the occasion!”

Zoro rolled his eyes, waved a placating hand at his mother, and moved inside the castle.

* * *

Zoro’s rooms were in the west wing, facing the sea. He had a bedroom, a study with a small library, and a bath complete with a hot soaking pool. There had been servant and slave quarters in the wing as well, but since Zoro refused to have slaves of his own, he had emptied the rooms out and had rebuilt the space to be a private studio for training and meditation.

He took the slave directly to the baths first. Not because he was a stickler for cleanliness or because he was delicate enough that the man’s smell bothered him, but because he had a small infirmary stockpiled in a locker by the sink. He instructed the man to sit on the low bench and then opened the locker. There were a few different bottles of salves, alcohol—the sterilizing kind, not the kind you drink, that was all in his study—a sharp pair of scissors, needle and thread, and a plethora of bandages. Zoro took the alcohol and a strip of bandage and turned back to the blue-eyed slave.

The man was watching him with apprehension, but again, no fear whatsoever. 

“I don’t think the nick on your head will need stitches, but I’m going to check anyway. As for whatever is going on inside, you’ll have to see our healer. I’ll take you to her later.” He moved close and sat on the bench, then he poured a small amount of alcohol on the bandage and lifted his hand to move the man’s hair away from his brow.

“Ribs…” the man said quietly. 

“Hm?” Zoro was startled. For some reason he had assumed the man did not speak his language.

“My ribs are broken,” the man repeated.

Zoro blinked. “Damn, which ones?”

The slave moved gingerly and pointed to his left side just above a dark, purple bruise. “I think it’s six and seven. Maybe five, I can’t tell.” His accent was mild, different than anything Zoro had ever heard before. He couldn’t place it.

“The healer can mend those pretty easily, I know from experience,” Zoro said softly, and resumed cleaning the cut on the slave’s head. “Anything else?”

“Besides my entire fucking body being bruised, almost biting off the tip of my tongue, and it hurting to piss, no. I’m totally fine.”

Zoro laughed, he couldn’t help it. “You don’t sound like any slave I’ve ever heard.”

The man’s mouth might have turned up at the corner. “Well, you don’t sound like every Eastern Territory Bastard I’ve encountered so far, so congratulations.”

“What’s your name?”

“Sanji.”

“I’m Zoro.”

Sanji snorted. “I know, your mother was so proud of you getting your slave cherry popped she was almost crying.”

Zoro, satisfied that the cut was closing on its own, stood and rang a bell. “Take off your clothes, I’ll be back in a minute and we can try and get all this blood cleaned up. It’s not all yours, is it?”

Shaking his head, Sanji smiled grimly. “Hardly any of it is.”

Zoro stood there for a moment, thinking. Finally, he nodded his head. “Good.” Then he turned and moved out of the bath.

* * *

To his credit, Sanji was silent as Zoro bathed him. He was as gentle as possible, but Zoro knew with every stroke of the brush, every time he moved the slave’s body even an inch, the man must have been wracked with pain. The damage was unbelievable, the bruises coloring his skin ranged from a light purple, ones that had been inflicted recently—perhaps that very morning, to a sickly greenish yellow. There were scrapes and cuts on his knees and elbows in varying stages of healing, the remnants of a black eye, and then of course there was the mess that was his side. The abuse had been going on for weeks, and it looked like it had been continuous.

“This is disgusting,” Zoro murmured.

“I know,” Sanji chuckled without humor. “I have two weeks’ worth of shit and piss on me, and some of it’s not even human. I can’t even imagine what I smell like.”

Zoro paused, “I didn’t mean… I’m sorry, I meant the injuries.”

“Oh, yeah that…” he trailed off.

Feeling awkward, Zoro put down the brush and rinsed the last of the soap and grime away. As Sanji’s skin was revealed Zoro noticed a spattering of freckles across the slave’s shoulders. 

It was odd. The man’s hair had turned out to be several shades lighter than Zoro had first guessed, and his skin was very pale. There were sun spots at the back of his neck and on the tops of hands, but his natural shade was almost white, as if he had never seen the sun before. This, combined with the strange accent, the unfamiliar language, and what seemed like proficient swordsmanship, fascinated Zoro. There was no question that this man had not been born a slave, the real question was: where did he come from?

Zoro wanted to ask, but his intuition told him Sanji wouldn’t tell him, and Zoro’s intuition was almost always right.

“Here,” he said, and handed Sanji a towel, “can you dry off and dress yourself or do you need help?”

“I got it,” Sanji said softly.

Nodding, Zoro stood and left the bath. The servants had brought a tray of food and a few pitchers of what was probably water or cold tea to the study. Thinking it was for Zoro, they had left it and placed a table setting and a glass on his desk. With nothing to do but wait, Zoro slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers and moved to the window. He stared outside but saw nothing.

What was he thinking? Why had he gone against his own code and purchased a slave? What was he going to do with him?

The door to the baths closed and Zoro turned around. Sanji made his way into the study and stood calmly, waiting.

The clothes Zoro had collected for him fit well enough, but they were his own training blacks, and he had thirty pounds on the slave easily. He would have to ask Allira of one of the other handmaidens to take in a few of his other uniforms.

“We’ll go see the healer in a few minutes,” Zoro said softly, “I don’t understand the alchemy or whatever the magic is that she does, but it works. I broke two fingers in a training session with my master a few years ago, but after she worked on them I was back to normal within a few days.” 

Sanji nodded. “That sounds excellent. What am I doing until then?”

Zoro motioned to his desk and the tray of food. “Eat something.”

Sanji’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock. 

“I… what?” 

“Eat,” Zoro said again. “Food’s there on the tray. Have whatever you like, I’ll just finish whatever is left.”

He turned back to the window and this time he watched the comings and goings of the people down below, traveling the roads between his family’s castle and the smaller buildings that made up the industrial district in the western part of town. 

A quiet noise from behind him made him turn back. Sanji had moved closer and was standing beside the tray, he was looking down at the food with his hands deep in the pockets of the training slacks. His eyes were lost and far away, like he was remembering something that pained him. 

Zoro’s heart did another lurch like it had in front of the wagons and he took a step forward before he could stop himself.

“Are you all right?”

Sanji seemed startled. He looked up, confused, almost as if he had forgotten where he was, but then his eyes cleared and he collected himself. He lifted a hand and wiped at his cheeks.

“I’m… yes. I’m sorry, I was just…” he trailed off again and reached for the bread and a slice of meat.

“Thank you…”

Zoro’s heart had started beating again, but it was pounding so hard against his ribs he was half-afraid Sanji might hear it. He took a breath and murmured “You’re welcome,” before he finally got his feet to cooperate and he moved into the other room.

* * *

Lunch was an affair. Zoro’s family ate together almost every day, but because his sister and mother were such late sleepers, it was rare for all of them to come together for any meal besides dinner.

His mother doted on him, smiled and fawned at him and instructed the servants to give him extra helpings of everything. Zoro took it in stride and tried to ignore the sly looks his sister was giving him from across the table.

His father, however, surprised him.

“Zoro,” Bazil asked as he cut his meat, “do you know what you’ve brought into our house?”

Zoro shrugged and pushed his plate away so he could rest his arms on the table. “What do you mean, father?”

“You’re skilled enough to recognize proficient swordsmanship, so don’t pretend you didn’t see it. Light blond hair, white skin, and what looked like a Northern fighting style? The slave is probably from Tallra.”

Zoro stared at his father, surprised. Obviously, he had noticed the swordsmanship, but he had not recognized the particular style like his father had. When he spoke, he could not keep the shock out of his voice.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone from the Northern Territories in person.”

Bazil nodded. “No doubt it’s a criminal. Tallra’s crime is supposedly low, and they take care of their own, but once in a while someone will skirt the death penalty and be shipped across the sea for labor instead. Forty years ago, we were getting their trash all the time, but your grandfather had them exterminated and stopped all shipments that included slaves from Northern traders. That’s why you haven’t seen any of their ilk before.” He paused for a moment and took a sip of his wine. 

“This one just slipped through the cracks is all. Bolard didn’t know what he had, but he did have the right idea. You should send it to the capitol for euthanization and request a refund. Or a replacement.”

Zoro’s blood boiled at those words, but he remained silent. Nothing good would come of him arguing with his father, and so he would nod and drink his wine and placate his mother’s indulgences. 

“Well you must wait until the end of the month at least,” his mother said. “I’ve planned a little event for tomorrow evening to celebrate your long-awaited entrance into social politics. The invitations have already been sent, and that slave is the talk of the town. If we don’t perform a proper exhibition we will look ridiculous!”

Scowling, Zoro pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mother, I am not parading that man around for your friends to gawk at. It’s obscene.”

His mother’s eyes flared. “Oh yes you are, my darling son. You took the initial step into these affairs all by yourself! Now you will follow through with tradition and put your first on display! It’s embarrassing enough that we have to do this type of coming of age ceremony for you at nineteen! Gods, it’s almost absurd!” 

“Calm yourself, my dear,” Bazil said as he dabbed at his mouth. “The ceremony will take place, and then the day after, Zoro, you will personally escort the slave to the capitol for euthanization. I will put in a request to Bolard to replace it with one of similar build and features and pay for it myself for your trouble.”

Zoro didn’t realize he had been grinding his teeth until his jaw started to ache. He took a few moments to breathe slowly, trying to calm himself before he straightened and stood. 

“I will participate in the ceremony,” he said, “but please give me some time to think about taking him to the capitol.”

“Zoro I don’t think—”

“He is my slave,” Zoro cut his father off gruffly, “the first one I’ve ever purchased myself. I understand that you have final say in all of our affairs, but I feel that this should be my decision. I humbly ask if you would let me think on it for a few days.”

Silence rang throughout the room. The servants who stood in waiting along the walls stared at Zoro with bulging eyes. His mother looked ready to faint, and his sister had a hand over her mouth. Although whether she was trying to stifle a gasp or a laugh, Zoro wasn’t entirely sure.

When he looked back to his father, Bazil was regarding him with an almost admirable expression.

“All right, my son,” Bazil said, “you are only months from coming into your inheritance and branching off on your own. It is time you started making political decisions on your own.”

Zoro bowed his head. “Thank you, father. Excuse me.”

With that, Zoro turned and headed out of the dining hall.

* * *

Zoro’s own swords were resting in their display rack on the wall in his bedroom. His mother did not approve of his harness but she let him wear it all the time. His swords, however, were unacceptable to her sensibilities and he was only allowed to wear them in his quarters, or if he were to go outside or into town.

He pulled the white one, Wado, his most treasured possession, off the wall and slid her gently into the fitting over his left shoulder. The other two, Shusui and Sandai Kitetsu, he placed into the holsters at his right hip.

Angry, frustrated, and disgusted by the conversation over lunch, Zoro moved into the training room and kicked off his shoes. Drills cooled his head and cleared his mind. When his family became too much to bare, he would lock himself in his training room and do pushups or run the sequences his old master had taught him until he was so tired he could just go back into his bedroom and pass out. 

It happened often.

He was halfway through a series when he felt himself being watched. He turned, startled, but when his eyes took in the blond hair and blue eyes, he relaxed.

“Did I startle you?” Sanji asked.

“No.”

“Hm,” the blond chuckled, “you’re a bad liar.”

Annoyed, Zoro returned to his series. He swung Wado low and swept his leg out slowly, riding the momentum. “I’m just not used to having anyone in my chambers unless I called them. No one ever comes in here.”

“No one comes into the gym?”

“That what?” Zoro asked.

“ _Gym_. Uh… this training room.” 

“Oh, yeah. This is sort of… my space.” Zoro turned, swept his back leg around, and brought the sword up to his shoulder. He was facing Sanji now and the blond was watching him with an odd expression on his face.

“How are your ribs?”

Sanji put his hands on his hips and nodded. “Your healer is good. She mended everything, but I need to wear the bind for another day just in case.”

“Good.”

Zoro worked for a few more minutes, letting the practiced motions calm him. Sanji’s presence was soothing as well, surprisingly. Never before had Zoro felt so comfortable being alone in the same space with someone he barely knew. To be completely honest with himself, Zoro realized had never felt that comfortable alone with anyone ever. Sanji wasn’t intrusive or pressuring, he was just… there, like that was where he was supposed to be. Like he was meant to be there.

“What style is that?” Sanji asked suddenly.

“Eh?” Zoro stopped and turned to face the other man.

“It’s low to the ground, both hands on the grip. Your stance is so wide, it’s… interesting.”

Zoro’s heart started to beat faster. He had known Sanji was a swordsman, but Sanji showing interest in his art was exciting. Now that his old master had left, there was no one to talk to about swordsmanship at all, save his father, but Zoro didn’t particularly like discussing anything with his father.

“It’s a dead style,” Zoro explained. “My master taught it to me when he was still teaching. It’s called Kenjutsu.”

“ _Kenjutsu_ …” Sanji rolled the word across his tongue. “Where is it from?”

Zoro shrugged. “Master never told me.” He turned, slid Wado back into her sheath, and then asked carefully, “What style do they use where you’re from?”

If Sanji was surprised, he didn’t show it. He said nothing and cocked his head to the side. “Why do you ask?”

Fixing him with smug look, Zoro folded his arms over his chest. “Okay, let’s pretend I don’t know you’re a swordsman and say, ‘I’m just curious.’”

There was a handful of seconds when Zoro was sure Sanji was not going to answer him, but then the blond huffed and pushed a hand through his hair. 

“It’s just called fencing. There’s no fancy name for it or anything, it’s just the standard style soldiers and sometimes royalty use.” 

“Were you a soldier?”

Sanji did react to that. It wasn’t much, but Zoro noted the tension in the bond’s shoulders. When he finally answered, he was quiet.

“No.”

Zoro nodded, understanding Sanji’s hesitancy to speak further on that subject.

“Why the hell do you carry three?”

“Three?” Zoro asked dumbly. He knew exactly what Sanji had meant, it was just odd to have someone asking him about it.

“One, two, three,” he said pointing to each sword in turn. “Why do you have three?”

“I have a better question.” Zoro stepped closer. “Are you from Tallra? My father says that slaves from that region are usually criminals that escaped the death penalty.”

Sanji’s eyes narrowed. “Your father’s an asshole.”

It was hard not to laugh. Zoro had never heard anyone insult his father so explicitly before, and he found that he enjoyed it.

“While that is true, it doesn’t answer my question.”

If Sanji found humor in that, he hid it well. However, his gaze did soften and his posture relaxed somewhat. He studied Zoro for a moment and then sighed softly. “Why does it matter where I’m from? What’s it to you?”

“Because my father wants me to take you to the capitol for euthanization because he’s sure you’re from the Northern Territories. All slaves from Tallra have supposedly been eradicated from this area.”

Sanji cocked his head to the side again. “Wow, I’m definitely going to fess up to being Northern now. You’re _exceptionally_ good at extracting information from people.”

“I said my father wanted you euthanized,” Zoro growled, “I don’t.”

“Can you stop using the term ‘euthanized’? It makes me sound like a lame horse you have to put down.”

Clenching his teeth in frustration, Zoro took a few deep breaths to keep his temper at bay. He was not mad at Sanji, he was angry at himself and furious at his family for being a bunch of evil bastards. He didn’t know how to talk to people outside his class or his family’s social circles, and he knew once he was on his own, no one in the rebellion was going to take him seriously.

“I have no intention of taking you to the capitol,” Zoro said softly. “At least, not to be executed.”

Sanji grunted. “Well, that’s good to hear.”

Zoro stood, not looking at Sanji for a few long moments, almost crippled with feelings of frustration and inadequacy. When the slave spoke again, Zoro still couldn’t look at him.

“I am grateful to you for taking me in. I was sure I wasn’t even going to make it _to_ the capitol.”

Zoro shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

They stood for another handful of seconds, Zoro, unsure what to say, and Sanji, unsure of what he was allowed to do. Finally, Sanji spoke, and his voice was laced with a small amount of trepidation.

“Where am I sleeping tonight?”

Zoro’s gaze shot up. The thought of where Sanji was going to sleep had never even cross his mind. His mother and father had rooms for their slaves and servants, but Zoro had gotten rid of his. Zaya’s slaves rotated in and out of her own bed every night, the few she didn’t use for her pleasure lay on cushions on the floor. It was common practice to sleep with your slaves, but the thought of sharing a bed with Sanji sent a sudden wave of embarrassment through Zoro that was completely bewildering. 

Where else was he supposed to put him? Zoro had no couches or loveseats like his sister did. He could have a bed brought from one of the servant’s quarters but that would attract attention from his mother because why wouldn’t his new slave be sleeping with him! _Damnit!_

His bed was huge, it’s not like they would be sleeping on top of each other.

That thought sent another wave of inexplicable embarrassment through Zoro, and this time it was accompanied by shame as well. 

_Stupid. It’s a stupid thing to be embarrassed about. Get it together, Zoro. How old are you? Ten?_

“You’ll have to sleep in my bed tonight,” Zoro said, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think about it. We can figure out something else tomorrow.”

His embarrassment burned on his face and Zoro knew exactly what he would see if he looked up. His inexperience was obvious and while he knew there was nothing to be ashamed of, he also knew that this was the kind of thing other men looked down on him for. It had never bothered him before, but now… with Sanji…

“Don’t say anything,” Zoro grumbled, “I’ve heard it all before.”

When Sanji said nothing, when he didn’t even move, Zoro chanced a look and was shocked to see relief on the blond’s face. 

“So… you’re not…” Sanji trailed off.

Suddenly, Zoro realized what Sanji had really been asking. “Oh. No, no. I’m not…” his face actually grew hotter as he tried to explain. “I don’t want that. We’re just going to sleep, I mean it.”

After another stretch of time where Sanji seemed to study him intently, the blond finally nodded. Something in him changed at that moment and the tension in his body just slipped away completely. His mouth even turned up into a soft smile. 

“Okay,” he murmured, “just sleeping.”

* * *

After the uncomfortable conversation at lunch, Zoro decided he did not want to join his family for dinner. Sanji suggested he tell his mother he was “training the slave” and that worked surprisingly well. That was something people did and it apparently took a lot of time and effort. When Allira brought dinner to him in his quarters instead, she had been smiling softly.

“What?” Zoro had asked.

Allira had shaken her head. “Your mother is so excited. She and your sister are inventing all of these ways you are up here ‘training’ your new slave.”

“That’s not funny, that’s disgusting.”

Allira laughed softly. “It’s funny if one knows you, m’lord. You are so kind and gentle with the household staff, and even kinder to the slaves. It’s funny to us that your mother thinks you’re doing the things that she does. She’s your mother, but she doesn’t know you at all.”

Sanji had grinned and taken an olive from the platter. “That’s a nice way of saying the entire household staff knows you’re a virgin, but your family doesn’t.”

“Oh!” Allira slapped Sanji on the hand playfully. “You scoundrel!”

Zoro shoved a slice of roast into his mouth and chewed grumpily as he watched Sanji laugh and flirt easily with a servant woman more than twice his age. It was true, his family knew almost nothing about him, and they didn’t really care to. All they wanted was a good son who followed tradition and kept the laws that his father and grandfather implemented. 

“But what should I tell them?” Allira had said. “They’re going to want details when I go back down into the dining hall.”

“Nauseating,” Zoro muttered.

“Come here,” Sanji had motioned to Allira, his eyes bright. He then cupped his hand over his mouth and whispered something into the woman’s ear. After a few moments, she pulled away and laughed.

“You’re terrible!” she exclaimed. “But yes, that will definitely work.”

When Allira had left, smiling and waving to Sanji, Zoro found himself slumping further in his seat and chewing almost angrily on stewed carrots. He knew he had been acting like a child but that had not stopped him. At that time, he had not known why he was angry, or if he was even truly angry at all. He still did not. The feelings that had been churning in his gut during dinner were still confusing and stupid.

Now, turning from the window, Zoro watched Sanji securing the ties of the bind around his chest. The man winced, paused in his movements, and then continued. 

“Still hurts?” Zoro asked. “I thought our healer mended your ribs.”

Sanji nodded as he worked. “The ribs are mended but it’s still a little tender. I drank some of that tea though so it should get better in a few minutes.” 

“I’m sorry again about the sleeping arrangements. I just don’t want to draw attention to anything having to do with you.”

Sanji shrugged, and then looked up at Zoro, a teasing smiling pulling at his lips.

“I promise I won’t do anything.”

Zoro felt heat creep into his cheek and was immediately horrified by his reaction. Sanji was doing that on purpose. Stupid. It wasn’t as if he had never been flirted with before. Many men and women had come on to him over the years, some had even made their intentions remarkably explicit. His mother’s friends were particularly terrible, teasing him and touching his shoulders and back during parties, but none of that had ever bothered him before. What was different now? Why was Sanji different?

“I don’t care if you do anything to me.” Well, that hadn’t come out right. “I mean, I’m not worried about it. I could stop you.”

He heard Sanji snicker and so he fixed his attention on the lamp as he lowered the light in the bedroom. When he moved to the bed he moved quickly and didn’t glance up. He was suddenly mortified and couldn’t bear to see the grin that was no doubt spreading across the blond’s face.

Pulling back the covers, Zoro lay down and rested his head on the pillows. He didn’t bother covering up, the room as warm, even with the cool breeze drifting in from the window. He closed his eyes and waited for the dip and shift on the other side of the mattress, but it didn’t come. Cracking one eye, Zoro lifted his head and glanced down at the dressing bench at the foot of the bed.

Sanji sat still, looking out toward the window, his face lit by the soft glow of the collar. He seemed content at first glance, but Zoro could see the slump in his shoulders and the way his right hand clutched at his left wrist.

“You sure you’re all right?” Zoro asked. 

Sanji blinked and took a breath, seeming to break out of whatever spell had been cast on him. “Yeah,” he said softly, and stood, making his way around to the other side of the bed. Pulling back the covers, he lowered himself to the sheets and slowly stretched out. When his head touched the pillows, he made a soft noise, almost as if the movement had been painful.

“Oh my god…”

Zoro lifted himself up on his elbow, worried by the tremor in Sanji’s voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Sanji said quickly, palming his eyes, “I just haven’t slept in a bed in a long time.”

“Oh,” Zoro murmured lamely. He lay back down but didn’t close his eyes. There was no way he was sleeping any time soon, he was too keyed up, so he resigned himself to just lay there, in the dark, watching the shadows play across his ceiling. 

Time passed but he never felt the tension ease from Sanji’s side of the bed, and so when he turned to look at the slave’s face, he was not surprised to find the man’s eyes still open and still watching the window.

However, Zoro was surprised to find those eyes were filled with tears.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Sanji startled at the sound, and once again seemed to break out of some kind of spell. He didn’t look at Zoro, merely wiped at his eyes again and let out a shaky breath.

“Don’t worry about it, just go to sleep.”

Zoro took a few moments before he whispered. “I’m sorry I can’t do more to help you right now.”

Sanji let out a short laugh and wiped at his cheeks again. “Are you kidding? How can you say that? You saved my life. You fed me, let me sleep in a bed…”

“Yeah, but I should be doing more. I want to do more, but my family…”

Another few moments of silence passed and the wind blew strong enough through the window to make the curtains dance. Zoro’s heart had sped up at the sight of Sanji’s tears, and now it thumped hard in his chest. His hands were clammy and his mouth was dry, almost dry enough to silence his voice. It was as if his body knew there were words he wanted to say and it was making an effort to keep those words from being spoken aloud.

“I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through, Sanji,” he said, his throat scratching like gravel under his feet. 

Sanji made another soft noise and turned away from him. A silent sob shook his chest, sending a tremor through the bed that Zoro felt all the way to his bones. 

“I want to go home…” Sanji whispered.

Zoro’s heart broke at those words, and a feeling unlike anything he had ever experienced before swept through him. He felt sad and happy, despairing and joyful all the same time. He was overcome with an unbelievable need to protect Sanji, to keep him safe, and to never let anyone hurt him ever again for as long as they both lived.

Carefully, Zoro sat up and slowly moved towards the center of the bed. He lay back down a few inches from where Sanji was crying and reached out. He found the other man’s hand and slipped pale fingers in between his own. They stayed that way for a while, until Sanji’s breathing slowed.

“Where is home? Tallra? Manna?” Zoro asked.

“No,” Sanji sniffed and tightened his grip on Zoro’s hand. “A ship.”

“A ship?” Zoro asked, intrigued.

“Yes. The crew, we’re like a family. At least… we were.”

When Sanji did not continue, Zoro did not press him. If the man wanted to tell him his story, he would. Until then, Zoro would be patient. 

Sleep did not claim Zoro for another few hours. He lay awake listening to Sanji breathe, and marveling at the feeling of the other man’s skin against his palm. When he did finally start to drift off, he pulled that hand to his mouth and kissed those pale fingers as softly as he was able.

* * *

The next morning, Zoro woke very warm and slightly disoriented. His head was not on his usual pillow, and there was a strange weight on his arm and chest. Opening his eyes, he found himself almost smothered in soft, blond hair.

Frozen, breath caught in his lungs, Zoro started to frantically catalogue his predicament. Sometime during the night, he had rolled towards Sanji, and in turn, Sanji had rolled towards him. The blond was now tucked into his chest, one arm draped over his waist, and his face was buried in Zoro’s neck. He could feel Sanji’s breath puffing against his collar bone, and the sweet smell of his hair and skin was everywhere, intoxicating. 

Zoro wasn’t sure what to do. What did people do in this situation? He had never woken with someone else in his bed before, let alone woken up tangled in someone else’s limbs. Was he supposed to untangle himself? Did he wake Sanji up? Or was it polite to wait until Sanji woke up naturally?

He didn’t have long to think about it because Sanji started to stir. The blond made a soft noise and the hand that was draped over Zoro’s waist, slid slowly up his back. 

The warmth of the embrace and the unfamiliar but surprisingly delicious feel of Sanji’s touch lit a flame inside of Zoro that he had never realized was there. A tidal wave of heat and arousal slammed into him and all the blood in his body rushed to just below the waistline of his pants. He swallowed a groan and tried to shift his lower body away but it was no use. Sanji was flush against him.

Sanji hummed against his throat. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Zoro choked out, “I… I’m not used to waking up like this. I’m not trying to—”

“—It’s all right,” Sanji’s lips were at his jaw, “it’s perfectly normal.”

Zoro clenched his teeth against the violent shivers that rocketed down his spine. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded hoarse. “I know that, I just don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage—”

“Relax, Zoro,” Sanji pulled away and rested above him on his elbow, “if anyone’s taking advantage of anyone, it’s me.”

Despite his discomfort, Zoro chuckled softly. “I have noticed your lack of subtlety.”

“Hm,” Sanji hummed and a smile pulled at his mouth. His hand slid up Zoro’s shirt and he fingered the lacing at the neck. His eyes dropped suddenly and that soft smile disappeared.

“What happened here?”

Zoro didn’t have to look to know what he was talking about. The scar ran from his left shoulder to his right hip. It was gnarled and ugly, the one stain on his record of being the perfect son.

“Got a little cocky with my old master,” Zoro said, “It’s kind of a long story.”

Sanji shrugged. “We have some time.”

Looking up into those blue eyes, Zoro felt the excitement and arousal fade away, as if it had been a dream. The feelings were replaced with another he did not know very well, but it was warm, and comforting.

He lifted his hand and brushed a lock of hair from Sanji’s brow.

“I don’t really want to talk about it right now. Maybe later?”

“Sure,” Sanji murmured. 

Zoro felt an overwhelming urge to slip his hand into Sanji’s hair and pull him close. He wanted to kiss those lips, slide his hands gently all over that bruised and battered body. The urge coiled in his gut and played with his spine. He looked away, ashamed, and his face started to heat with embarrassment yet again.

“You okay?” Sanji frowned.

Zoro swallowed past a dry throat, “Yeah.”

Unable to bear the closeness of Sanji’s body another moment, Zoro pulled away and rolled to his other side. He sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed, then he rubbed his hands over his face and sighed deeply.

“There’s going to be a celebration tonight. If it were up to me, it wouldn’t be happening, but even though I’m nineteen years old my mother is still insisting we have a beholding party.”

“What’s a beholding party?” Sanji asked.

“When children of noble houses purchase their first slave, the parents throw a beholding. It’s symbolic of them taking their first steps—or showing interest rather—into politics. You start buying slaves it shows that you’re going to carry on tradition.”

Sanji was quiet for a moment before he spoke.

“That sounds… horrifying. What usually happens at a beholding?”

Zoro shrugged. “It’s whatever you want it to be, as long as you show off your slave. For my sister’s beholding, she shackled her slave and made him kiss her feet and bring her horderves on his hands and knees all night while she just sat at the head of the room on a couch. Everyone loved it.”

“You didn’t like it though, did you?”

“Well, I was only two. I don’t really remember it,” Zoro said softly.

He heard Sanji shift and felt the bed dip behind him as the blond laid back down. “How are you the way you are surrounded by all this? How are you so different from your family? I don’t get it.”

“I uh…” Zoro scratched at his chin. He had never really thought about it before. “I don’t know, I just don’t see how one group of people is better than another. There’s no point in slaves anyway, having people do everything for you makes you lazy and stupid.”

Sanji laughed. “That’s… that’s very true. Zoro, that’s the simplest and yet… most profound argument against slavery I’ve ever heard.”

Zoro shrugged and turned around. “That’s me, simple yet profound.”

Sanji laughed again and Zoro had to smile.

* * *

The remainder of the morning passed easily. Zoro worked through a few hundred series with Wado before breakfast, and then ate with Sanji in his chambers. During the meal, Zoro noticed that Sanji had a peculiar way of examining each and every item on the platter. He would smell it and take it apart with his fingers before tasting it.

“You worried about poison or something?” Zoro asked.

Sanji shook his head, “Just me being interested in your culture. The government and infrastructure is shit, but your food is good.”

Zoro opened his mouth to protest, but found he had nothing of substance to form a rebuttal. Sanji’s observation was fairly accurate.

After breakfast, Zoro took Sanji back to their healer. She had instructed the wrap be left on through the night and then removed in the morning, but neither Zoro nor Sanji was allowed to remove it without a final examination. Over the course of the last fifteen years or so, Zoro had heard these same instructions time and time again, and so he had learned to simply heed them and suffer less reprimand in the long run.

“Bones are easy to repair,” she said in her scratchy voice as she untied the wraps’ bindings. “Collagen and calcium, woven back together with simple spells… it’s not difficult.” 

Slyn was an ancient-looking woman, but strong and surprisingly graceful underneath her gnarled and bent exterior. Her hands were steady and her eyesight was still like that of a much younger woman. She had been treating Zoro since he was born, and had served his family for many years before him.

Now, she ran her hand over Sanji’s side, palm humming with soft, white light. Zoro had never understood her magic, and he didn’t think he ever would, but it was nice to have it all the same. Magic was generally frowned upon in the Eastern Territories, but not so much in Ruma, and even if it was, Zoro’s family would be lost without it. Gods forbid his mother or sister had to suffer something atrocious like a hangover or a wart.

“Everything looks the way it should be,” Slyn croaked. “All except the bruising, of course. Best let those heal on their own. Keep drinking the tea if they’re bothering you. Let me see your wrist.”

Zoro sat up straighter. “Wrist?”

“Yes,” Slyn said, “his wrist was broken too.” Her dark eyes slid up to look into Sanji’s face. “You didn’t tell him?”

Sanji shook his head. “I didn’t think it was important.”

“Didn’t think it was important?” Zoro growled. “Why w—”

“—Calm yourself, Zoro,” Slyn held up a hand. “It was a small break. He had set it already himself, I didn’t have to do much. I can see how in his eyes it truly wouldn’t have been worth your worry.”

Shaking his head, Zoro folded his arms over his chest and sat back in the chair, defeated. At times, he wondered if Slyn had bewitched him at some point in his youth because he never seemed to be able to resist doing what she said.

“You’re a long way from home,” Slyn said, returning her focus to her patient.

Sanji nodded. 

“How did you manage to get where you are? Isn’t your family looking for you?”

Sanji shook his head.

Huffing a sigh, Slyn shook her head. “Not getting information from you, am I?”

A small smile stretched Sanji’s lips and he shook his head again.

“All right,” Slyn waved her hands, “get out. Go do… whatever.”

“Thank you, m’lady,” Sanji crooned.

“Don’t get cute with me, brat, go on.”

Sanji hopped down off the table and pulled on the uniform top, grinning all the while.

“Zoro, I want to speak with you. Privately.”

Zoro glanced at Slyn and then back at Sanji, who merely shrugged and started for the door. “I’ll wait outside.”

“What it is?” Zoro asked after the door had closed.

“Where did you get him?” asked Slyn, and to Zoro’s surprise, she seemed angry.

“Uh, Bolard? Where we get the majority of our slaves?”

Slyn put her hands on her hips and bared her teeth. “I cannot… In all my years here, healing and mending your family’s slaves and servants, I have never seen the kind of damage that was done to that poor boy. I’m not even sure how he’s still alive.”

Anger started to simmer in Zoro’s gut and he bit down on a volley of barking questions. He took a breath and said quietly, “What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t have a lot of scars so it’s not obvious,” she explained. “Everything is internal. His lungs and heart are all right, except for the smoke damage, he was probably in a fire or something, but his intestines, kidneys, bladder, they all have signs of previous healing magic. For example, his spleen has been ruptured and then put back together.”

Nausea started to weave in between the anger and Zoro clenched his fists at his sides. 

“Is that all?” 

“No. The damage to his bones was unbelievable. It wasn’t just his wrist and ribs, he had small fracturs in both arms, his knees, shins, jaw, and socket of his left eye.”

“All of it healed previously?”

“Some of it.”

Shaking his head, Zoro took another breath to steady himself. “Okay, so what does all this mean?”

Slyn shrugged and splayed her hands as if in defeat. “I’m not sure. Either his previous masters were cruel beyond anything I can imagine—and I can imagine quite a bit, Zoro—or he’s a rover, or both.”

Roving. There was another reason to loath his family and everything they stood for. Every city in the Eastern and Southern Territories had some kind of fighting ring or stadium that men and women could battle for money or status. Here in his own city there was The Pit, Zoro had been there many times, wishing he could participate but he had to wait until he was of age. Slaves were entered all the time, mostly as fodder for the more popular gladiators, but sometimes a slave won. Years ago Zoro’s grandfather had put forth a law, limiting the number of times a slave can fight. Entering your slaves into more than six fights per year was illegal. Slaves that proved capable fighters and won high numbers of matches started to become heroes to common folk and symbols of hope to other slaves. It was dangerous to have that kind of fame.

Of course, in the tradition of anything anywhere, if there was money to be had, the people would find a way around the law. If a slave proved to be exceptional, winning fight after fight, his or her master would sometimes fight them underground in illegal rings. These underground gladiators were called “rovers”. They were fought at night, fixed quickly by a healer looking to make money fast, and then put in another fight the next night. They were given very little food, hardly any rest, and if they lost they were killed. 

Sanji had already shown Zoro he was a capable fighter, it wasn’t too hard to imagine this scenario.

Zoro sighed deeply and looked at Slyn. “What should I do?”

“You won’t be able to do anything until your mother throws her stupid becoming party for you. Such a disgraceful bunch of garbage.”

Nodding, Zoro ran a hand through his hair and turned toward the door. As he reached for the handle however, he paused, and turned back to the healer.

“Was he…”

Slyn’s face fell. The anger that had hardened the lines over her brow and at the corners of her mouth softened and turned sad. 

“I don’t doubt it.”

Feeling sick, Zoro opened the door and stepped out.

* * *

The scene that met Zoro in the corridor was confusing and it took him a moment to understand what was happening. The space was crowded with a small group of people. Sanji was kneeling on the floor, near the center, his head hanging low, his arms behind him and crossed at his lower back. It was a standard position for slaves to use when presenting themselves during inspection or when they were being displayed for auction and sale. Seeing Sanji in that position rekindled the anger that had been boiling in Zoro’s gut so fiercely only minutes before.

“What’s going on here?” he growled.

“Ah, Zoro. Finally.”

The sight of Sanji in such a familiar and terrible position had taken all of Zoro’s focus and he had not realized his sister was standing just a few feet from him. Her friends, or her “inner circle” as she liked to call them, were loitering about dressed in their usual ruffles and extravagant wigs. Zoro recognized one man as Hial, a tall, lumbering buffoon with a shaven head and diamond studs in his ears. He was standing close to Sanji and was nudging him with the tip of one pointed shoe.

“Just wanted a pre-viewing of baby brother’s first slave,” Hial said. “I must say you have good taste.”

Zoro saw red, but he remembered the teachings of his old master and kept his cool. He pushed through two women fanning themselves with paper fans and reached down to grab Sanji’s arm. He pulled gently and Sanji stood easily and without resistance. Zoro felt a pang in his chest when he saw that Sanji’s eyes were glazed over and most of his body hung limp.

He was about to take Sanji’s hand and lead him away from the vultures his sister called friends, when Zaya moved directly into his path.

“Oh, come on, Zoro. We’re just having some fun.”

“And we’re just leaving,” Zoro hoped the furious tremble in his voice wasn’t as obvious as it felt. “There are things I have to do to get ready for tonight. You’ll have your look then.”

He took Sanji’s arm and moved down the hallway, clenching his jaw and summoning all the willpower he could muster to prevent himself from shoving his way through two more decorated bodies. He couldn’t risk starting something here, not when everything he wanted was only a few months away.

“Zoro,” Zaya called after him. Zoro stopped but he did not turn to look at her.

“You will let me borrow him after tonight, won’t you? It’s tradition to let your first be inspected by your family, you know that, right?”

Zoro couldn’t move. The thought of handing Sanji over to his sister for gods knew what she had planned for him was sickening. But he couldn’t say no, that would arouse suspicion, especially after she told his mother. His father would hear of it too and this entire charade of playing tradition by having a becoming party would be for nothing.

“We’ll see,” he said carefully, “I might still be busy with him.”

Zaya laughed. “Oh, dirty, dirty Zoro, good for you!” 

Pulling Sanji behind him, Zoro turned the corner and fled to his chambers.

* * *

“Aaarrrgg, I’m sorry,” Zoro growled when they reached his room, “My sister is… terrible. She’s worse than my mother. I don’t even…”

He trailed off when he saw that Sanji’s eyes were still glazed over and the man’s body was still limp and almost pliable. He stood in the center of the room where Zoro had left him, as if frozen in time, waiting for something that might never come.

“Sanji?”

“Yes?” His reply was soft and hollow, it scared Zoro.

“Hey, Sanji, look at me.”

He took the slave’s head in his hands and turned his chin up. Those blue eyes were so clouded and those handsome features were so slack Zoro had a moment of panic. Had someone done something to him while he was talking to Slyn? Did one of Zaya’s friends know some kind of mind-altering magic? 

Wracking his brain, Zoro tried to come up with something that would bring Sanji out of whatever this was.

“Sanji… where did you come from? Where did you grow up?”

“The North…” Sanji said quietly.

“And your home? It’s not Tallra it’s somewhere else?” _Oh! That’s right!_ “A ship, right? You said your home was a ship? What’s the ship’s name?”

Sanji blinked. “S…Sunny… Thousand Sunny…” Those blue eyes suddenly cleared and focused. “The Thousand Sunny!”

Zoro took a breath and ran his thumbs over Sanji’s jaw. “You’re back, are you okay?”

Sanji frowned and pulled away from Zoro’s grasp. He glanced around the room as if trying to remember where he was.

“What happened?”

“My sister,” Zoro said. “She and her idiot friends had you cornered in the hall when I came out of the infirmary. What happened to you? Your eyes were… strange.”

Sanji’s hand went to his wrist, as if the injury was still fresh. “I’ve been a slave for almost two years. You have to find some kind of way to deal with getting the shit kicked out of you every day.”

“So, you put yourself in a trance?”

“What, am I supposed to just deal with it? Face it head on?” Sanji was suddenly angry, his teeth flashed at Zoro and his stance changed. It reminded Zoro of when they first met, when Sanji had attacked the grunt through the cage bars.

“No,” Zoro put his hands up and backed away. “That’s absolutely not what I meant.”

Sanji’s eyes were blazing now, his fury palpable. He pointed a finger at his neck and he snarled, “This collar takes away your choice! You can’t run away, you can’t kill your master, you can’t even kill yourself! There’s no fucking escape! So, you just have to take it a minute at a time, hoping—praying the next one is better! I don’t want to surrender but I also don’t want to die! I let them do what they want because the less I struggle, the faster it’s over! It’s not like I’m giving up! _Don’t fucking judge me!_ ”

Zoro backed away again and the dressing bench at the foot of his bed hit the backs of his legs. He sat carefully, never taking his eyes off Sanji’s face. He put up his hands again to signal his surrender. When Sanji merely stood, burning with fury and saying nothing, Zoro lowered his hands to his lap. His heart hurt and he felt like crying, but he sat quietly and waited, wanting to see what Sanjji would do.

Growling, Sanji ran his hands over his arms, and then felt along his sides near the newly healed ribs. Then he ran his fingers over his mouth and then through his hair. Finally, Sanji seemed to calm somewhat, and his gaze turned back to Zoro.

“You sister and her cronies didn’t do anything?”

Zoro shook his head.

Sanji blinked slowly. “Because you stopped them?”

Zoro nodded again.

There were several long moments of silence where Zoro just sat and watched the different emotions play over Sanji’s face. He couldn’t read them all, but he was sure he saw fear, but also relief, and then something else he couldn’t identify.

“What’s your deal?” Sanji asked.

“What do you mean?” Zoro asked softly.

“You don’t treat me like a slave, but you still follow your family’s traditions and plan on displaying me like one. I’ve tried figuring you out, but you’re confusing. I don’t think you’re interested in sex, so if I’m not a body slave then what am I here for? Why did you buy me?”

Zoro opened his mouth without thinking. 

“You’re not a body slave!” He felt his face reddening. There was no way he would ever purchase someone merely for sex, the thought was ludicrous. He had never wanted sex before, it just didn’t interest him.

Except, maybe a little now, with Sanji. He might be able to see having sex with S-- _No, no, no. Stop thinking about it._

“I, wasn’t thinking about what I was buying you _for_ … I was thinking about…” Zoro trailed off again. He sounded like an idiot. If he was going to tell Sanji why he purchased him, then he would have to tell him his entire plan.

Then a thought struck Zoro, and his breath caught in his lungs.

Why not? Why couldn’t he tell Sanji his plan?

He looked up, motioned to Sanji, and then moved over and patted the seat next to him.

“You want to hear it? Then I’ll tell you, but come sit. I’ve never told anyone this before and you standing breathing fire at me is making me nervous.”

Sanji looked intrigued. He moved closer and sat where Zoro had made room, then he folded his hands in his lap and waited.

“I’m going to be twenty in four months and three days,” Zoro began. “Twenty is the age nobles here in Ruma come into their inheritance. My share of my father’s estate is… well, it’s a lot of money, let’s just say that. My plan is to leave here as soon as the title is mine legally.”

Swallowing thickly, Sanji seemed to search for words for a moment before he spoke again. “Where are you going to go?”

“Well, I’m going to leave under the pretense that I’m off training with a sword master in the south, when really, that sword master is going to buy my share of the estate. He’s going to take the title, the land, everything. When I have the money, I’m going to get a ship, and sail north to Germa.”

Sanji’s eyes widened. “Zoro… Germa is home to the rebellion.”

Zoro nodded. “Yeah, I’m going straight to the leaders, Trafalgar Law, Bartolomeo, whoever will see me, and I’m going to lay down everything I know about this government. Who they need to bribe, where to infiltrate, who has the most slaves that are capable of fighting back and where to find them… everything they’ll need to take this terrible country down.”

Looking away, Sanji seemed to think. “They’ll think you’re a spy. They might kill you on the spot or throw you in prison.”

Zoro nodded. “Not before I give them all my inheritance.”

Sanji turned back to him, mouth dropping, and he stood. “Holy shit, Zoro… that’s… that’s fucking brilliant.” He ran a hand through his hair and started to pace. “This is amazing, Law could finally buy that land to the northeast and we could start using it for training. Luffy could finally hire that mercenary carpenter to fix the damages to the ship! We could get better food and supplies to the refugees! We could buy slaves back! Oh my god, Zoro!”

Zoro didn’t hear whatever question Sanji threw at him because he was jumping up and grabbing the blond’s elbow.

“Did you just say ‘Luffy?’ As in… the D brother?”

Sanji grinned. “Well, I call him ‘Captain.’” 

The floor dropped out from beneath Zoro. Suddenly he felt like flying.

* * *

“Okay,” Sanji said around a mouthful of grapes, “I get it now, why you tiptoe around your family and why you placate them and everything. You need to lie low until you can get your inheritance and get the fuck out. But you still didn’t answer my original question. Why did you buy me? Isn’t that kind of the opposite of lying low?”

Allira had brought them lunch about quarter past noon, and they had eaten and talked quietly over hot soup, fruit, and fresh, crunchy, bread. Now, the sun was starting to descend and the house was bustling with activity as everyone got ready for the party that night.

Sanji’s question caused a churn in Zoro’s gut. He had no idea how to answer. Now that he knew about Sanji, and his affiliation with one of the most powerful leaders in the rebellion army, Zoro wasn’t even sure how to talk to this man anymore. 

It turned out Luffy and a few of his other crew members had found themselves in a dire situation and Sanji had given himself up to save them. He had put himself in one of the worst conditions a person could be in, just to see his people get away to fight another day, and now he had been lost for almost two years with no hope of a rescue because his crew thought he was dead.

Zoro was nothing in comparison. He had never done anything in his life besides train. If he was going to offer himself to the rebellion, and have any chance of meeting his secret hero, Luffy, he was going to have to make a name for himself first.

“Zoro, I’m losing you,” Sanji’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Sorry…” Back to the question. Why had he bought Sanji?

“I thought since I only had a few more months, I would take you with me and then… I don’t know, free you?” Zoro watched his hands as he spoke. His embarrassment was under control, but for some reason his shame was powerful and settling over him like a blanket. 

He continued in a smaller voice. “I looked into your eyes and saw that you still had so much fight in you, even after everything you had been through. I just couldn’t… leave you alone, I guess.”

A few moments of silence passed and then Zoro look up warily. Sanji was smiling, almost teasingly at him. 

“You just fell in love with me at first sight and couldn’t turn away?”

“Ah… no,” Zoro grumbled, “I don’t know.”

Sanji’s smile widened, but he was cut off from saying anything else when there was a knock at the chamber doors.

“Come in!” Zoro called.

The door opened and Callin, one of Zoro’s mother’s slaves came into the room.

“I’m sorry to disturb, m’lord, but m’lady Mia wants to see you and your new slave in the parlor immediately.”

Zoro sighed. “She wants to plan tonight. She probably thinks I want something that won’t adequately entertain her guests. Am I right, Callin?”

Callin reluctantly nodded. “She was telling m’lady Zaya that you will probably allow your slave to wear clothes, and she is extremely against that.”

“I have to be naked!?” Sanji exclaimed.

Zoro waved his hand in dismissal. “It’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Sanji shoved a handful of grapes into his mouth almost comically. “Too hate. I’hn horried.”

“Tell mother we’ll be there in a few minutes.” Zoro sighed.

Callin bowed and slipped back out of the room.

Sanji sat chewing for a minute before he folded his arms across his chest. “He’s very young.”

Zoro nodded, “My mother likes them young.”

“That’s… gross.”

“More reason to stop it,” Zoro said. He tossed his napkin on his plate and stood. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Hey, what happens to the food you don’t finish?” Sanji asked.

Zoro pulled a simple dining coat over his uniform as they left the room, but left it unbuttoned. “Allira’s family lives in a slum down the road a little way. At the end of each day, she takes home all the leftovers from our meals and any other supplies I happen to… misplace. She distributes them amongst the people in her neighborhood.”

He heard Sanji stop behind him and he turned to see the blond was smiling very softly, with a look in his eyes that Zoro could not place.

“What?” Zoro asked.

Sanji shook his head. “When you brought me here, I was sure you were going to be this creep who was kind during the day, and then a psychopath at night behind closed doors. But I was so wrong. You are an amazing person, Zoro.”

Unable to meet that sincere, handsome, face any longer, Zoro turned away and mumbled a quiet “thank you” before continuing down the corridor. Of course, once again, his cheeks were burning.

* * *

The hour or so they had spent with Zoro’s mother had been one of the longest hours of Zoro’s life. Watching her painted fingers skirt over Sanji’s skin, listening to her voice croon and sigh as she admired him, it filled Zoro with a burning jealousy and possessiveness that almost cracked his usual calm exterior. The reaction surprised him, Zoro had never even come close to losing it in front of his mother. His father maybe, and his sister definitely, but it had never actually happened. This afternoon was the first time that he’d ever had to make a move to stop something before he completely came undone.

Sanji’s intense gaze had never left his. The two watched each other as Mia had warbled on, planning and fussing in a high-pitched voice that Zoro had never heard before. She was extremely excited, and that fact alone bothered Zoro more than anything.

Now, back in Zoro’s chambers after a long bath, they sat in nothing but robes, side by side on Zoro’s bed.

“Well,” Sanji sighed, “at least I won’t be naked.”

Zoro chuckled without any real humor. “I tried to keep her from totally degrading you. I’m sorry I didn’t do very well.”

“You did your best,” Sanji lifted a hand and ran fingers through Zoro’s damp hair. “I appreciate it.”

Turning to Sanji, Zoro tried to keep his emotions off his face, but he could tell he wasn’t doing a very good job. “I don’t think I can keep my family away from you,” he whispered painfully. “My father will enter you in The Pit, and my sister will tear you apart, if her friends don’t.”

“What’s your father going to do?” Sanji asked.

“He’ll put you in The Pit and force you to fight for him.”

To his surprise, Sanji laughed. “Oh, The Pit? That terrible excuse for a colosseum? I saw that piece of crap when I came into this town. Let your dad put me in there, I’ll kick the shit out of anyone they put in front of me.”

Zoro looked at him, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I was right. You were a rover, weren’t you?”

“Rover?” Sanji frowned. “I might have heard that word passed around a few times. What? Is that what they call slaves that win forty-five consecutive underground fights? Because if that’s what it is, then yes. That’s me.”

Only a little surprised, Zoro smiled, but it was sad. “I figured, because of your past injuries.”

“Ah, I knew that’s what that damn healer was talking to you about.”

“But… forty-five consecutive matches?” Zoro asked, amazement finally kicking in. “That’s incredible. I wish I could have seen it. What happened? How did you get back in circulation?”

Sanji scratched at the stubble on his jaw and looked away sheepishly. “Took the fights out of the ring. I got too dangerous to have around. The colosseum sold me to some rich guy, but I wouldn’t do what he wanted so he sold me. The traders I ended up with got handsy and I killed a couple of them. You know the rest.”

Zoro listened to the story, knowing there was more to it, but not needing the details. He could guess.

“That’s…” he started, but then words failed him and he fell back on something familiar. “I’m sorry.”

Blue eyes turned back to him, watched him with a strange, piercing look. Then a hand was sliding over his jaw, and then Sanji was kissing him. Zoro was caught completely off guard, but when the other man’s lips slid over his, urging him to open for him, Zoro obeyed. He had never kissed anyone before, and he had harbored no expectations, but now he wondered why, it was incredible. At least, kissing Sanji was incredible.

Sanji’s tongue slid over his, caressing gently. Zoro felt his heartbeat start to ram against his ribs, and a powerful heat started to boil in his gut. It wasn’t an angry heat, no, this was something completely different. It was heady and overwhelming. Zoro wanted to reach out and touch that heat, stroke it hotter.

But then it was over. Sanji pulled away and steadied Zoro with both hands against his jaw. He put his forehead against Zoro’s and whispered softly, slightly out of breath.

“I’m sorry… I’m not sure why I did that.”

Stunned, and still overwhelmed, Zoro tried to find his voice. “You… shouldn’t kiss someone and then apologize.”

Chuckling, Sanji pulled back and looked into his eyes.

“It’s a shame that you… that you’re unsexual. A shame for me, at least.”

Watching Sanji’s eyes, feeling the tremble in the other man’s hands, Zoro felt that heat spreading through him and lighting fires he never knew were there.

“I don’t think I’m unsexual. I think I’m just… picky.”

Sanji’s breath came out like a soft laugh. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not.” Zoro waited a single heartbeat, and then leaned in. This time he kissed Sanji. The blond groaned against him and Zoro moved. He ran his hand up Sanji’s thigh and made a soft sound in the back of his throat when he felt the tie of his robe coming undone. 

There was a knock on the door and Zoro froze. Sanji breathed against his mouth, waiting. The knock sounded again.

“What!” Zoro growled.

“We’re here to dress your slave, m’lord!” a voice called from the corridor. “Guests have already started to arrive so m’lady is getting impatient!”

Zoro wanted to murder someone. What was he supposed to do with all this energy and all of these feelings if someone was going to come take Sanji away? Was all of this going to fade or was he doomed to feel like this for the rest of the night?

Sanji seemed to understand his predicament and chuckled against his mouth. “You could tell them to wait. I can take care of you real fast.”

Zoro sighed, his loins ached and his heart was still thumping obscenely in his chest, but he had been training his body and mind for most of his life. He could get himself under control.

“I don’t want to rush this,” he said softly. “We’ll have more time after the party.”

Sanji’s smile split into a wide grin, and he stood. “I’ll hold you to that. And really, we have four months. No reason to rush anything at all.”

As Sanji moved toward the door, Zoro rolled those words over in his mind. _We have four months…_

No. He wasn’t going to subject Sanji to four more months of dealing with his family. He wasn’t going to sit by and let his sister have him, or his mother. He wasn’t going to let his father put him in The Pit so he could break more bones and shatter more organs. After tonight, Sanji was going to be a free man, Zoro would see to it, even if it did put his plan in jeopardy.

He stood, pulled on the clothes he had been wearing earlier, and the boots sitting at the foot of his bed. The artists had filed into the room when Sanji had opened the door. They had brought in gold fabric and several containers of paints and jewels and all manner of makeup. Zoro couldn’t identify half of it, but he didn’t care. An idea had formed in his head.

Zoro motioned them into the adjacent room. “Feel free to use the study. I have a few things to do before my arrival tonight. I leave him in your hands.”

Sanji’s eyes widened. “Zoro?”

“Just…” Zoro paused in opening the door. “Wait for me.”

After a moment, Sanji nodded and Zoro left.

* * *

A few hours later, Zoro stood in the ballroom, watching the same faces decorated in the same finery he had seen a hundred times, eat the same fancy food they had eaten again and again, and dance the same dances he had been watching for years. The pomp and ceremony was tedious and tiresome, and the small talk either had him perilously close to falling asleep, or internally heated at the hypocrisy and injustice of its content.

He was dressed in a new ensemble, a black coat with gold trim, black trousers, and new boots that his sister had given him as a becoming gift. He felt stiff and uncomfortable, but his mother had granted him permission to wear one of his swords at his hip. Wado hung there now, cool and comfortable, a rock in the middle of a whirling storm of feathers and lace.

“I’m so proud of my boy!” Mia exclaimed. She was drunk and hanging onto the arm of another overdressed, overpainted woman. The ladies his mother associated with regularly had all arrived earlier that afternoon and had been drinking since. He knew this night was a relief to his mother, who had probably been harboring worries and doubts as to the extent of her son’s political agenda, but in Zoro’s mind that did not give a reasonable excuse for her behavior. 

A smile started to pull at the corners of Zoro’s mouth as he thought about how her relief would be short-lived.

“Where is he?” Zaya whined. “As much as I love our parties, I have my own new slaves to train.”

“Patience,” Zoro sighed, “just a few more minutes.”

Zaya made an exasperated sound and pouted behind her fan. Their father stood a few feet away, talking loudly with a gaggle of fat senators. Each had a woman or man at their side that was definitely not their spouse.

“Ah Zoro! Zoro!” his mother cried. “It’s time! Go sit! Go sit!”

Reluctantly, Zoro moved toward the platform set in the center of the room and sat on the cushioned char provided for him. His mother had fussed over the display all morning, driving half the household staff almost to tears. Heat bloomed into his cheeks. He had known this moment was coming, but even knowing ahead of time did not make dealing with the reality of it easier. The entire thing was still disgusting and stupid, and Zoro wished it wasn’t necessary.

The torches were doused and candles were lit. The instruments faded out, all but a single drum and something that sounded like a tambourine. Zoro folded his hands over his chest and lifted one ankle to rest on the opposite knee. He was excited and embarrassed, nervous and a little angry. The emotions swirled together but mixed uneven, making everything slightly disorienting. 

Finally, the doors opened, and Zoro’s breath caught. 

Sanji stood there at the threshold, his stance relaxed and his posture tall. He wore a pair of loose-fitting slacks of golden silk and around his neck, besides the faintly glowing slave’s collar, were chains and bangles of gold and silver. His wrists were decorated to match. Zoro knew every piece was just costume jewelry but the stones still sparkled in the low light. Pale skin stood out against the deep hues of faux emerald green, sapphire blue, and dark, bloody ruby. 

Sanji moved slowly, his steps smooth, like it was a dance. Zoro’s heart started beating harder and with every thump his pulse seemed to throb way up into his throat. He could hardly breathe. Sanji was beautiful, exquisite. 

When Sanji came closer, Zoro could see the coal around his eyes. The smoky darkness brought out the blue, making it seem brighter than the sky on the clearest of days. 

Zoro repositioned his arms, furtively trying to determine if he was actually shaking with excitement, and swallowed past a dry throat. There was a sigh and a few cheers from the crowd as Sanji moved across the floor, closer and closer with every step. In just a few more seconds he would be at the bottom of the platform, and Zoro would have to do something he desperately did not want to do.

At his feet now, Sanji kneeled, and despite his hatred of this entire performance, his disdain for everything this awful ceremony stood for, Zoro found himself tremendously aroused. He was immediately ashamed, and he thought of earlier when Sanji had kissed him. If he could take something that sweet and that wonderful and taint it so thoroughly by losing control of his lust at a time like this, he didn’t deserve Sanji at all.

Just like they had planned, Sanji knelt on the platform right at his feet, and raised his hands as if to receive a gift. Zoro unfolded his arms and legs and reluctantly pulled a small dagger from the inside of his coat. The piece was ceremonial, used commonly in becoming ceremonies, and because Zoro was going through this rite at so late an age, his mother had decided that the most traditional of rituals was in order. This was exactly what his grandfather had done for his becoming, and his father before him.

For some reason, honoring his grandfather in this way made everything worse in Zoro’s opinion, but if they could just get through the next few minutes it would be over. His parents would get off his back, and he could follow through with his plans to help Sanji escape.

Sanji took the dagger from Zoro and the crowd gasped and cheered. It was hard to look at Sanji as the blond flipped the blade in his right hand and placed it over his left palm, but Zoro would not look away. Sanji was going to do this, so Zoro knew the least he could do would be to stay present.

The blade cut into Sanji’s flesh and blood flowed. He did not flinch. Zoro held out his hand and Sanji pressed their palms together. Warm wetness seeped between Zoro’s fingers and he felt another wave of shame roll through him as he felt himself becoming aroused again. What kind of person was he that this was getting to him? Did he think this was sexy? Was it sexy? Was there something wrong with him?

“My life for you,” Sanji said, loud enough so that everyone close to the platform could hear. 

Zoro broke away and reached out to slide his fingers down Sanji’s face. 

“I accept.”

Sanji mirrored the gesture and the two men came away with shiny, red streaks down the left sides of their faces. 

Zoro heard his mother cheer, and applause echoed throughout the room. He finally tore his gaze away from those blue eyes and, without another word, he stood and pulled Sanji to his feet. He may have startled the other man, but that would make it look more authentic. He was disgusted and ashamed of himself, but he had to push those feelings down for another few minutes so he could get Sanji out and away from the party.

“Ouch, Zoro,” Sanji growled softly, “you’re hurting me.”

Zoro said nothing and pulled him behind as he stepped off the platform and headed toward his mother. She was crying and clapping, a dumb, drunken smile split her pudgy, wrinkled, face.

“Oh Zoro, I’m so—”

“Okay, we did it, but now he’s bleeding and it’s disgusting. I want him healed now, I don’t want more blood on me.” 

“Of course, my dear, we’ll continue the party without you!”

“Goodnight mother.”

He pulled Sanji along behind him roughly. The blond made another noise, a quiet hiss of pain that broke Zoro’s heart.

_Just a few more minutes, Sanji, I promise._

He ignored the guests’ cheers and congratulations as they exited the ballroom. Hurrying down the corridor, they passed serving men and a few people that had already started to resume their mingling in the halls and out on the terrace. As they neared the west wing, Sanji made another soft noise and Zoro felt he couldn’t bear it any longer. When they finally arrived at his quarters, Zoro opened the door, and moved inside, but didn’t stop. He dropped Sanji’s hand and burst into the study.

“It’s done,” he said, his voice trembling.

Slyn looked up from the book she was reading and regarded him over the rims of her glasses. “Well, my goodness. That shirt is done for.”

Zoro looked down at himself. The white shirt that he wore beneath his black coat was covered in blood. He felt a powerful wave of panic move through him and he removed the coat with jerky, angry movements. 

“His hand,” he murmured as he turned towards his bedroom, “it’s… just fix it.”

He ripped the shirt from his body and tossed it on the floor by his bed. There was water in the basin on his chest of drawers so he wet a washing cloth and wiped the blood from his face and neck. He scrubbed hard, making his skin burn, but he barely noticed. He was so upset he couldn’t think straight. He felt dirty and ashamed, and he wished he could just disappear. 

This had all been such a terrible idea. He had humiliated Sanji, put him through such a stupid ordeal, for what? So Zoro could claim a title? Inherit some money? It wasn’t worth it. _He_ wasn’t worth it. He was an idiot to ever think he was anything but a spoiled, noble brat that played games with a sword.

When his skin seemed free of blood, Zoro sat on the dressing bench and stared at his hands. The breeze from the window fluttered the curtains, and shadows cast from the lamp on the bedside table danced across the walls but he did not notice. He did not notice anything.

Minutes passed, or hours, there was no way to tell. When Sanji’s silhouette appeared in the doorway, blocking the light from the study, Zoro didn’t look at him.

“I’m sorry…” Zoro said.

“Slyn said you were going to punish yourself,” Sanji said softly. “She said you would take all the blame and close yourself off to suffer alone.”

Zoro said nothing, he didn’t know how to respond.

Graceful feet moved across the carpet, hands slid over Zoro’s jaw, and then Sanji’s mouth was on his. Before Zoro could even process the shock, the other man was climbing up into his lap, legs on either side of his hips. 

Sanji’s tongue was warm and his lips were soft. His kiss was more demanding than it had been earlier that day, and Zoro was once again overwhelmed. Shivers traveled down his spine, danced across his skin and teased the muscles of his stomach. His cock was hard, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through him with every roll of Sanji’s hips. 

“S… Sanji…” he whispered, trying to keep a hold of his emotions, and of his… whatever this was.

“Stop,” Sanji breathed into his mouth. “I won’t let you be ashamed of how you feel.”

How did he know? How could Sanji possibly know what he was thinking? 

When his back met the bed, Zoro’s hands unclenched and he ran his fingers up silky, pale skin. He finally lifted his eyes to meet blue ones surrounded with the barest remnant of coal. The blood was gone, the jewelry and makeup was gone, and it was just Sanji and his collar, staring down at him with such gentleness it made Zoro feel like weeping.

“I swear I’ll make myself worthy of you someday,” Zoro whispered.

Sanji laughed. It was breathless, just on the verge of a sob, and then he leaned down, kissing Zoro on his forehead, his temple, and his cheek.

“Shit, Zoro. You don’t even realize how precious you are.”

A weight lifted from Zoro’s shoulders at those words. A great and terrible pain was suddenly gone from his chest. It was funny in a way because Zoro had not known it was there until he felt its absence. He lifted his head to kiss Sanji again, and this time he was the aggressor. 

Sanji tugged at Zoro’s slacks, pulling them down with desperate urgency, and Zoro helped. They fell to the floor along with his boots, and then Sanji’s pants followed soon after.

“Put your hands on me,” Sanji ordered as he came back down over Zoro’s hips.

Zoro obeyed as lightening flashed through his body. The contact of Sanji’s nakedness against his own was unbelievable and he ran his hands over as much of Sanji’s skin as he could reach. He was trembling with excitement; his heart was beating so fast and so hard and this time he was absolutely sure Sanji could hear it. When he felt the press of Sanji’s hard length against his, he made a low sound in the back of his throat and felt muscles he didn’t even know he had tense.

Bracing his weight on his arms, Sanji hovered and watched Zoro writhe with every slow roll their bodies made together. 

“What do you what?” Sanji asked.

Zoro grunted, unsure of how to voice what his heart was saying; what his body so desperately wanted. His thoughts were jumbled and clouded.

“Anything,” he breathed, “whatever you’ll give me.”

Sanji hummed, pleased. He kissed Zoro’s lips again before trailing more kisses down his jaw and neck. The feeling of the blond’s lips on his skin was enough to make Zoro’s back arch. He felt out of control, falling down a steep ravine, but in no danger of being hurt. There was only the thrill and the excitement and the promise of unbelievable pleasure awaiting him at the bottom.

Then Sanji was gone, he had climbed off him and moved out of the room. Zoro pulled himself up to his elbows, watching the door to the bath in complete and utter confusion. However, before he could really think about it, Sanji was back, and carrying one of his salve containers. 

“We’ll need this,” he said, as he tossed the container on the pillow and climbed back onto the bed. This time, however, he lay down beside Zoro, not over him, and Zoro immediately understood what that meant. He moved closer, sliding his hand up the outside of Sanji’s thigh and then settled himself between Sanji’s long legs. 

“I feel out of control,” Zoro said, thinking back to his vision of falling down a ravine.

“Good,” Sanji smiled up at him, “now get up on your knees. I’ll show you what to do.”

There were no words to describe what Zoro felt when he slid into Sanji. It was all he could do to hold tight, fingers tangled in the bed linens or Sanji’s hair, and groan his pleasure into a warm, pale neck. He heard broken gasps and pieces of his name whispered gently into his ear, and felt slick thighs wrap tightly around his hips. When he came, it was like falling through the sky. He burned alive with such an intense, overwhelming pleasure that for a moment he was sure he would not survive it.

But then he was coming down, his breathing and his senses were coming back to him. He felt Sanji’s warm breath against his cheek, the tremble of the other man’s body against his.

“F…fuck…” Sanji was murmuring, “holy shit… goddamn…”

Snorting a laugh, Zoro pulled back and looked down into Sanji’s flushed face. “That’s a lot of cussing… was it that bad?”

“Mother of God, Zoro, no,” Sanji chuckled. “It was so good I think you might have killed me.”

Embarrassment flooded through him again, but it was gentler this time. He felt none of the customary shame that accompanied those kinds of feelings. He settled down, resting on one elbow so his opposite hand was free to run fingers through sweaty, blond hair. Sanji watched him, his eyes were clear but lidded, sleepy.

“Your family…” he said softly, but then trailed off.

“What?” Zoro whispered.

Sanji swallowed. “Your family has made you ashamed of who you are, but you still stay true to yourself. You’re still so kind, and you care so much. You don’t give in to the pressures of your culture or your class… I don’t know how you do that. I… admire that so much.”

Zoro was stunned. “You… admire me?”

Nodding, Sanji’s hand found Zoro’s jaw and he ran his thumb across Zoro’s bottom lip. There was another wave of something, some emotion Zoro couldn’t place, that swept through his body and played gently with his heart. 

“You, the revolutionary, the man who gave himself up to save his crew. You admire me? I’ve done nothing, I’ve never even been outside this town.”

“The servants and slaves that live under this roof? Do you think they would say you’ve never done anything?” Sanji’s tone was gentle, but his words prodded at Zoro like soft punches. “You think Allira’s family, those people that live in the slums? Do you think they would say you’ve done nothing?”

Zoro was shaking his head without realizing it. “I…”

“When you’re free of this fucking cage, and this fucking life, you are going to be unstoppable, Zoro. I promise.”

That fire had started burning again in Zoro’s body. Sanji’s words fueled something that had always been there, but had been hidden from him underneath shame and uncertainty and fear of retribution from his family. As his heart started beating harder, and his breath came in shorter, quicker pants, Zoro clenched his jaw and slid his hand around to the back of Sanji’s head. 

“You trying to drive me crazy?” he growled.

Sanji’s smile widened. “Yes.”

He kissed he blond again, this time with the full force of his want, his desire. He ached for Sanji, he was desperate for him. There was nothing else in his mind now, no shame, no fear, nothing to hold him back. His lips trailed down Sanji’s neck. He pushed the collar away with his fingers and bit gently into the curve where neck meets shoulder. He relished the soft moan of pleasure against his temple and continued to kiss and suck and trail his tongue down pale skin.

“Ah, Zoro,” Sanji breathed, “roll over. Let me do it.”

He rolled, pulling the blond with him. He gripped slim hips hard, grinding the two of them together, and met Sanji’s mouth again with a sigh of pleasure.

The second time was slower, but just as incredible. Sanji lowered himself onto Zoro easily and moved his hips in a way that had Zoro seeing stars. They rocked together languidly, taking their time to savor it, to touch each other like they had no time for before. Sanji trailed his fingers down the scar on Zoro’s chest, studying it through a haze of passion that sent more of that lightening feeling coursing through Zoro’s body. The fire burned, it grew, and when Zoro felt he could take no more, Sanji guided him and wrapped both of their hands around his length. Pleasure once again overwhelmed Zoro and he felt he was flying, hurling through the sky, out past the stars and into another world. When he came to, Sanji was there, panting against his mouth, hands curled in his hair.

Zoro opened his eyes and kissed clumsily at Sanji’s lips. He slid his hands up that pale, scarred back and held the other man to him tightly. He wanted to say something, anything to put into words how he felt, but he could not. There was too much, Sanji meant too much. 

“Can we stay like this?” Zoro asked.

Sanji burrowed his head into Zoro’s neck and sighed deeply. “You have no choice, I’m not fucking moving.”

Smiling, Zoro pulled the sheet around them and was sound asleep in a few moments.

* * *

Zoro woke late in the night to find himself alone. He sat up, bleary eyed, and noticed that the lamps had all been turned down. The light from the study had also been extinguished. He was about to get up and search for Sanji when he heard someone coming back from the bath. A candle flame appeared in the doorway just before Sanji’s nude form stepped over the threshold. He saw Zoro and smiled softly.

“Sorry, nature called.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Zoro said and shifted to get beneath the covers. 

When he reached the bed, Sanji blew out the candle and set it beside one of the lamps. Then, he slipped back into the bed and lay on his side. He smiled as Zoro pulled up the covers and tucked them around his body. 

“You know,” he murmured, “I actually laid here for a few minutes thinking I shouldn’t get up.”

Puzzled, Zoro lay down facing Sanji and took the other man’s hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed those calloused fingers.

“What do you mean?”

Sanji shrugged. “I’ve been punished for everything you can possible imagine. Somewhere in the back of my mind I felt that getting up in the middle of the night without your permission would be a serious enough offense to warrant a beating.”

Zoro squeezed Sanji’s hand gently. “You know I would never beat you.”

Sanji nodded. “I know.”

“I would never even punish you, Sanji, please believe me.”

“I know, Zoro.” Sanji pulled his hand from the other man’s hold and placed it on Zoro’s cheek. “I know you wouldn’t, but I have bad dreams sometimes and I get scared… It’s just hard to believe this is all real, I guess.”

Zoro put his hand over Sanji’s but didn’t say anything. What could he possibly say to that?

Suddenly, Sanji smiled. “The next four months are going to be heaven, even if I have to entertain your sister. Or fight in The Pit, or whatever. I don’t care.”

A knot tightened in Zoro’s stomach and he pulled himself up to rest on his elbow. He looked down into Sanji’s face, carefully tracing the lines of the man’s nose and mouth with his eyes.

“It’s not going to happen,” Zoro whispered.

“Hm?” Sanji’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Zoro moved in closer and spoke so softly it was barely a whisper, “you’re not going to stay here for another four months. I can’t… I won’t have it.”

“I don’t underst—”

“—I’m getting you out of here tomorrow.”

Sanji’s eyes were wide, searching his face as if searching for a sign that Zoro was lying. 

“How?” he asked softly. “Tell me, please.”

“Okay,” Zoro murmured. “It’s pretty simple, but you’re probably not going to like it.”

* * *

The next morning, the household was startled by the sound of breaking glass. There was a shout, and then another crash as if something heavy had fallen to the floor and broken.

Allira rushed to the front parlor, almost tripping down the stairs on the way there. Servants and staff were huddled in the corridor just outside and Mia was shouting as she came around the corner.

“What is this!? What’s going on!? Zoro? What in the six hells are you doing!?”

Inside the parlor was a disturbing scene. Zoro was standing by the broken window, blood ran from a slash in his left cheek, and the right sleeve of his shirt was hanging, ripped almost completely apart at the shoulder seam. There was blood on his bicep, and at his shoulder. 

Sanji stood crouched on the other side of the room where a bookcase had fallen to the floor, scattering pieces of wood and books across the carpet. The slave had a long piece of glass in his hand wrapped in what looked like a silk napkin. Blood ran from his mouth. 

“Zoro!” Mia screamed. “What’s going on!?”

“Relax, mother,” Zoro said, his voice was calm, composed, “it’s just foreplay.”

“Foreplay!” his mother shrieked. “What the hell are you talking about? Why are you bleeding!?”

“He bit me,” Zoro said, matter-of-factly.

“ _He what!?_ ” 

It was chaos after that. The servants were banished to the kitchens and the guards were called. Zoro’s father was summoned from his study. It took over half an hour to capture Sanji and restrain him, and then the entire family was gathered in the dining hall with a small regiment of guards, and Sanji, bound and gagged on the floor in front of them.

“I advised you to take it to the capitol,” his father said calmly. “It is dangerous and completely out of control.”

“That’s why I wanted to keep him,” Zoro had his eyes closed and his arms folded across his chest, defiant. “I like it when he fights back.”

“Zoro, dear,” his mother said carefully, her fan fluttering at her wobbling neck, “while I am delighted at your discovery of a more sadistic side, I can’t have you and your slave destroying our home!”

Zoro made a show of rolling his eyes. “You desperately want me to get a slave, and then when I finally do, and I finally figure out what I like, you turn right around and tell me I can’t? Make up your damn mind, mother.”

Before Mia could answer, Bazil put up his hand to silence her. He looked from Sanji to Zoro, and then sighed softly. “While I am also delighted for you, Zoro, for taking your first steps into politics, and discovering your boundaries, I have to step in when I deem it necessary.”

Zoro nodded, already feigning a defeated stance.

“This slave is dangerous and I will not allow it to threaten the safety of myself and my family. Zoro, you will take this one to the capitol today and have it euthanized. I will send you with credit from my own accounts, and you may buy two slaves from the dealers at The Pit upon your return. I feel you will find the stock there more to your liking than the house slaves you will find in the capitol.”

Zoro nodded again, but rolled his eyes to let his mother know he felt the entire thing unnecessary.

“Get him up,” he growled to the guards.

Sanji was pulled to his feet and taken out of the room. The guards would prepare him for travel and wait with him by the gates.

As Bazil turned to leave, he glanced back at Zoro and nodded to him. “I am proud of you, son. When you come of age in a few months, I’m sure you will find The Pit just as exhilarating as I did.”

Zoro bowed, sick to his stomach. “Thank you, father.”

After changing and doing a quick patch job on his arm and face, he could not face Slyn at the moment, Zoro dressed, slid his swords into his harness, and left his rooms. He was almost to the front doors when he heard his sister’s voice behind him.

“Never would have guessed getting your rocks off would be so complicated a thing.” When Zoro turned to her, she was smiling behind a fan, and Hial was standing next to her, a grin on his face as well. 

“You really should just tie them up and beat them, it’s much easier.”

Zoro tried not to snarl as he spoke. “What do you want, Zaya?”

“Actually,” Hial took a step closer to Zoro and tipped his plumed hat, “I was wondering if I could accompany you, Zoro. I am thinking of making a purchase at the capitol myself. An early wedding gift, you could say.”

Zoro’s body froze. “Uh… what?”

Zaya giggled and held up her hand. A large, diamond ring sparkled on her left ring finger. “You’ve been so busy with your little pet that you missed the announcement. Hial and I are getting married.”

“That’s…” Zoro fished for words as if he had suddenly forgotten his own language. “That’s great, I’m… happy for you two.”

“I’m sure you are,” Zaya said slyly behind her fingers. 

Hial made another tip of his hat and moved even closer. He put his arm around Zoro’s shoulders and Zoro tried not to shudder in revulsion. 

“So, what do you say, little brother?”

 _Oh, first off, never call me that again. I might kill you._ Zoro knew there was no option to say no. “I guess I don’t mind.”

Hial clapped him on the back. “Excellent.”

* * *

Sanji’s eyes were wide and terrified when Zoro appeared at the gates with Hial and a small assembly of Hial’s guards. The term “guards” was not accurate in Zoro’s opinion, the men were more like mercenaries or thugs, but it didn’t matter. It was a problem and Sanji’s eyes were reflecting all of Zoro’s fears.

“Would you like me to drag him along behind?” Hial asked, his handsome face marred by a terrible sneer.

“No,” Zoro replied curtly, “he rides with me.”

He got Sanji in his saddle and climbed up behind, but he did not wait for Hial and his men to mount up before he motioned to his own guards to open the gates. He kicked into the horse’s sides and moved out.

“I’m sorry,” he said into Sanji’s ear, “I couldn’t say no. I think my sister is suspicious and sent her fiancé with me to make sure I follow through.”

Sanji’s eyes spoke volumes and Zoro did not have to guess what he was wanting to say.

“One, don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. Two, yeah I know, it’s disgusting and I’m trying not to think about it.”

Sanji’s shackled hands found Zoro’s at the reigns and squeezed. 

The ride was about three hours, give or take, and the sun was high in the sky when the walls of the capitol came into view. Zoro glanced back at Hial before he whispered again into Sanji’s ear. “Hial has to come back with me, it’ll be too suspicious if he doesn’t. His men though? I don’t care about them.”

He saw the pull of Sanji’s lips around the gag. 

“The keys to the cuffs are in my left breast pocket. Wado is the sword at my shoulder. She’s unclipped. You have to take out Hial first so I can help you kill the entourage.”

Sanji nodded and lifted his shackled hands to his mouth. He pulled the gag from between his teeth and turned his head to whisper in Zoro’s ear.

“I love you.”

* * *

All hell broke loose.

Sanji pulled Wado from the holstered sheath faster than Zoro could even comprehend, and then he twisted in the saddle. He brought the hilt of the blade up and tapped Zoro on the temple. Zoro flew with the imaginary momentum and cried out, pulling on the reigns, and sliding sideways to the ground. The horse bucked but Sanji made it off and around to the ground where Zoro was lying. He crouched and pulled the key from Zoro’s pocket, sending a low kick just over Zoro’s head.

Zoro played dead as the other men started to shout. Hial barked orders and reined in close, sliding from his own horse and unsheathing his rapier. 

“Northern scum,” he growled.

Zoro watched as the shackles fell from Sanji’s wrists, and the blond finally got a good handle on Wado’s grip. He stood tall, eyes burning as he moved parallel to Hial, checking the larger man’s movements and calculating his stance with that icy blue gaze.

He was so handsome, so powerful. Zoro had never seen anything or anyone look as terrifying and as deadly and so completely beautiful as Sanji looked to him in that moment. He felt his heart race in his chest as two of Hial’s men moved in to try and flank, but Sanji saw them coming and in one swift movement, slit the nearest guard’s throat, and in another he had taken the other’s legs out from under him by severing the tendons at his ankles.

They screamed, and Hial hesitated. It was just enough time.

Sanji moved, came in high, actually jumped into the air. He deflected Hial’s first strike easily before coming down on the larger man with his knees in first, making solid contact with Hial’s throat. The man made a choking sound and fell to the ground.

Zoro moved.

On his feet, he pulled Shusui and Sandai Kitetsu from their sheaths and took out the two closest guards. They fell to the ground with heavy thuds as Zoro moved to the next two. He slashed and dodged, blocked and slashed again. A man screamed and blood sprayed, Zoro could feel it splash across his face. He felt someone try and kick his legs out from under him, but he countered, planted his feet, and swung low. Another body fell.

Then there was silence.

Zoro turned and looked to Sanji. The man was standing in a ring of bodies, his clothes were covered in blood, it was on his face and in his hair. He stood, breathing evenly, eyes closed, his face turned up to the sky as if praying.

He seemed ethereal in some way and Zoro wondered if it was all right to interrupt. But then he heard Hial groan and he knew they were out of time. 

“Sanji,” he said softly, touching the blond’s arm gently.

Sanji turned to him, eyes calm. He handed Wado back to him and Zoro sheathed her along with the rest of his swords. When he turned back to Sanji, he lifted his hand and touched the collar around the other man’s neck.

“Release,” Zoro said, and the light faded from the woven cord.

Sanji grabbed the collard and pulled it from his neck, looking down at it with wide, unbelieving eyes.

“Holy shit…” he whispered.

“You have to go,” Zoro said softly.

“I know, but…” Sanji looked back up at him, his eyes filled with tears. “I can’t bear to leave you like this.”

“I’ll see you again.” Zoro lifted his hand and touched Sanji’s cheek. “I promise.”

“You know where I’ll be.”

Zoro nodded, and then remembered something from before. Something that had not properly taken effect on him until just now. 

He came close and whispered against Sanji’s lips.

“Say it again.”

Sanji let out a sob but then he steadied himself. He swallowed thickly and looked into Zoro’s eyes. 

“I love you.”

The overwhelming feeling that had taken over his heart and his mind the last few days, the one that had made it hard to breathe, the one that had clouded his senses but had also pushed away all his shame and fear, he finally knew what it was. Zoro finally had his answer.

“I love you too.”

They kissed one last time before Zoro placed a small bag of money in the blond’s hands, and then Sanji turned and fled. He would run to the docks on the West side of town and meet the man Zoro had made prior arrangements with. He would sail North, return to the rebellion, and reunite with his crew.

Zoro, however, had a long road ahead of him.

Returning to the place where Sanji had thrown him to the ground, Zoro drew Wado. He kneeled carefully, holding his most treasured possession at his side, silently asking her, and his old master for forgiveness.

And then, in one swift motion, Zoro turned his grip, and plunged Wado’s blade into his side. He fell back, blood running from the wound and pooling on the ground beneath him. He heard Hial’s coughing, his surprised cries as he discovered what had happened. Zoro didn’t care. He watched the clouds make their way lazily across a crystal blue sky. Bluer than the finest silks and brighter than the most magnificent of gemstones.

It was a blue like Sanji’s eyes. Pure, and beautiful. Perfect. 

Zoro felt himself drifting, and then slowly, gently, everything went dark.

Epilogue

_Two years later…_

He stood in the cold, echoing chamber looking out the window. The room faced the courtyard of the ancient castle, and below, a small group of soldiers was doing drills against straw dummies. Their form was good, their stances wide, backs straight. They had a good teacher.

The large wooden doors opened and he turned, surprised to see one of the three rebellion heads, Trafalgar Law, his sword strapped to his back and his hat sitting squarely on his head.

“Roronoa Zoro,” Law said, his voice was even, but it held an unmistakable quiver of excitement. “The most talked about, written about, most infamous man in the entire Eastern Territories. Betrayed his noble family, destroyed his town’s fighting ring, burned down _eight_ slave trading posts, and freed over six thousand slaves over the course of two years.” Law moved to the war table and sat in a high-backed chair. He put his feet up on the worn wood and crossed his hands over his chest.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Zoro folded his arms over his chest. “I’m here to see someone.”

“Yeah?”

“He’s a part of the Strawhat Crew.”

Law chuckled softly. “A lot of people come here saying they want to meet the Strawhats. Why would I let you anywhere near my boss’ crew?”

Moving carefully, Zoro pulled a leather-bound scroll from his bag and placed it on the war table in front of Law and said nothing. Law regarded him for a moment and then reached for the package. He opened the top and pulled the papers from inside. He studied them for a few seconds, and then his gaze shot up, his eyes wide.

“Is this…” he stammered. “Are you fucking serious?”

Zoro nodded. “It’s yours whether you accept me or not.”

Law’s eyes went back to the paperwork and he stood slowly. “Piss on my face and shit in my mouth, that is… a lot of money…”

“It’s my inheritance.”

“Why are you giving it to us?”

Shrugging, Zoro’s gaze returned to the window. “I want to be a part of what you’re doing. I want to help, and I want to stop people like my family from doing whatever they like.”

Law scoffed and set the papers down on the table. “Well, Zoro, with this I’m sure—”

“—I do have one condition,” Zoro interrupted. “I want to see the man I came here to see. I want to see Sanji Vinsmoke.”

Law looked up at him again, another look of surprise crossed his face.

“Sanji?”

“I’m not signing those documents until I see him.”

“I…” Law scratched at his temple. “Well, they’re here, they don’t ship put for another few days so he should…”

A loud shouting sounded from somewhere down the corridor. Someone was moving toward the room where Zoro and Law were talking. The voices were excited and there seemed to be several of them. 

“But, Sanji! How do you know him? Roronoa Zoro’s _famous!_ ”

“Shut up, Luffy! I’m sure he’ll explain in a minute!”

Zoro’s body trembled as sudden excitement shot through him. He was nervous. It had been two years. What if Sanji was mad at him for taking so long? What if he didn’t want to see him anymore? 

“Well,” Law said sighing, “at least we don’t have to look for them.”

Zoro turned toward the doorway as three people rounded the corner. One was a skinny, dark-skinned boy maybe two or three years his junior. The second was an exceptionally beautiful redheaded woman with bright, cunning eyes. The third… 

His eyes immediately met with the clear, crystal blue that had haunted his dreams for two years. That blond hair, that tall, slender silhouette, everything was the same as he remembered. 

Sanji stood in the doorway. Zoro uncrossed his arms and wondered if everyone in the entire castle could hear his heart slamming against his ribcage. They probably could, it seemed loud enough.

“Hey,” he said, softly.

Sanji swallowed thickly and answered, “Hey.”

Zoro felt frozen. He wanted nothing more than to pull Sanji into his arms and hold him tight, but he couldn’t tell if Sanji would want that. The blond’s face was hard to read.

“Hi Zoro!” the dark-haired boy beside Sanji said happily. “I’m Luffy!”

Zoro blinked, stunned that the famous D brother was… so young.

“Hi, Luffy,” he said. The boy was waving enthusiastically and grinning so wide Zoro felt like he could see every single one of his teeth.

“Hey, are you friends with Sanji?” Luffy asked. “When we heard you were here, Sanji dropped a bunch of dishes and ran up here!”

“He did?” Zoro fought to hold down a smile.

“Yeah! It was a mess! I couldn’t believe it ‘cause every time I break a dish Sanji gets—”

“Luffy,” Sanji said softly, and Zoro noticed his voice was trembling, “can I… have the room for a minute, please?”

“Yeah, sure! Come on Nami! Law!” With that, the small boy whisked everyone out of the room and slammed the doors with enough force to rattle the glass of the windows.

Alone with Sanji finally, and unsure of what to say or how to act, Zoro rested his hand on Wado’s grip and tried to steady himself. He had envisioned many ways this reunion would go down, but this had not been one of them. In his worst nightmares, Sanji had forgotten him, but never had he envisioned a scenario where the blond just stood there.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” Zoro murmured. “I needed to do some things before I came to you.”

Sanji nodded. “Don’t apologize, those were amazing things you did. If you had come to me instead of doing them, you wouldn’t be the person that you are.”

Confused, Zoro took the compliment with only a little embarrassment and ran a hand through his hair.

“Was I right to come here? I mean… do you still… want me here?”

Sanji shook his head. “This is your dream, Zoro. You’ve always wanted to join the rebellion. I shouldn’t be a deciding factor in that.”

“I know, but…” frustrated, Zoro’s confidence started to slip. He swallowed past a lump in his throat and his gaze dropped to the floor.

“Are you even a little happy to see me?”

Sanji laughed then, but it quickly turned into what sounded like a sob. When Zoro looked up Sanji’s eyes were filled with tears.

“I’ve waited for this day for two years… I’m just so overwhelmed I can’t move.”

Zoro’s heart skipped a beat, for a moment, the air in his lungs froze, but then time sped back up and he was moving. He crossed the distance between them and slid his arms around Sanji’s shaking body. He pulled the other man tight against him and held him close. He buried his face in soft, blond hair and breathed in that sweet smell that he had thought he’d forgotten.

“Sanji…” he whispered.

Sanji lifted his arms and wrapped them around Zoro’s neck. He pressed himself against Zoro’s throat and tried to form words that made sense. 

“I thought you forgot about me,” he murmured. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore after getting out into the world and I was fine with that because I just wanted you to be happy… but I couldn’t bear it.”

“I never stopped thinking about you,” Zoro said.

Sanji pulled away and kissed him greedily. “I love you, Zoro,” he said. His words muffled by Zoro’s lips. “I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Zoro kissed him back, his heart singing. “I’ll never leave you again. I swear.”

They stood for a few minutes, just holding each other and kissing each other’s lips gently. The reality of Sanji in his arms was so amazing and so overpowering he felt he might crumple to the floor if he tried to back away and stand on his own.

“Come meet my crew,” Sanji said finally, “and then I’ll show you around. I’ll show you our ship, where I live. Maybe someday, it’ll be your home too.”

Zoro shook his head and touched Sanji’s cheek. “I’m already home.” 

Sanji’s smile was radiant, and as he leaned in to kiss Zoro again, Zoro felt his words ring true. For the first time in his life, he really was home. 

END


End file.
